


Oh Well, the Devil Makes Us Sin

by Pye



Series: Devils!Verse [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Daddy Kink, M/M, Mirror Universe, Mirrorverse, PWP, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:19:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pye/pseuds/Pye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk likes it when McCoy's a good boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh Well, the Devil Makes Us Sin

**Author's Note:**

> This is really kind of tame and schmoopy for mirrorverse, sorry about that. Written for my gurl Hillary on tumblr. <3  
> Title from Massive Attack's Paradise Circus.

"When I said I needed to talk to you in my quarters, I meant I actually needed to talk to you," McCoy hisses, adjusting himself with a wince.

"So talk." Kirk scoots up on his elbows so he can watch the strong muscles bunching in McCoy’s thighs as he rides him, a slow, lazy drag of slick heat on his dick that’s making Kirk’s head spin. "Nothin’ wrong with your mouth."

"Infant," McCoy huffs, but there’s no venom in it.

Kirk smiles crookedly, fanged and catlike as he lifts his hand, pressing two fingers past McCoy’s slack lips. He’s expecting McCoy to bite him but he doesn’t, just sucks and stares down with half lidded eyes.

"Look at you, being so good for me." McCoy’s hips twitch and there’s a flash of something in his eyes, a split second of emotion and a faint pink flush, and Kirk zeroes in on it like a shark that just smelled blood.

"You like it when I talk like that," he says, surprised both at the realization and the rush of arousal curling through him. He tugs his fingers out of McCoy’s mouth and reaches down to get his hand around McCoy’s cock, squeezing just this side of too rough and feeling it twitch and jerk in his grip, a thick glob of precome spilling over his wrist in sticky strings.

"Fuck off," McCoy snaps, blush high on his cheeks now as he struggles like he’s trying to get away, so Kirk lets go of McCoy’s dick and digs his blunt fingernails into the meat of McCoy’s ass, holding him down.

"That doesn’t sound like something a good boy like you should say," Kirk says slyly and lowers a finger to where they’re joined, rubbing the slick rim and grinding up into McCoy with long, rolling thrusts that leave them both gasping.

“‘m not a good boy,” he mumbles, breath coming in short pants, accent thick and muddy. His voice is missing its usual hard edge of confidence, and it makes him seem smaller, less like the calculated killer Kirk knows and more like the moralistic doctor’s son from Georgia that he used to be. Kirk likes it, feels privileged that he’s the one who gets to break Bones down like this.

"Be good for me. Touch yourself, Bones," Kirk says, watching hungrily as McCoy gets his hand on his own dick, angry red and leaking everywhere. "You come when I say so."

McCoy whines in frustration but obeys, playing with his dick as he bounces on Kirk’s lap, clenching tight like a vice every time he has to tip himself back from the edge. McCoy’s never been vocal in bed but he is now, a litany of whimpery moans accompanying every torturous drag of flesh on flesh, sounds Kirk didn’t even know McCoy could make.

"Please, I-" McCoy’s shaking, fingers wrapped tight around the base of his cock. He looks so fucking wrecked, wild eyed, lips bitten red raw, flushed and sweaty and beautiful.

"Beg for it," Kirk snarls, dragging his fingernails down the swell of McCoy’s ass and slamming into him. He knows he got his prostate by the way McCoy howls and falls forward, chest heaving. He shudders and moans and then words are tumbling out in a rush.

"Daddy, please let me come," McCoy whimpers, slurring all the words together like he’s some nervous kid and not a grown man pushing thirty. "I’ll be good daddy please _please daddy_ -“

That’s not what Kirk expected at all but he takes it in and heat spikes through him like a punch to the gut.

"Oh _fuck_.”

Two brutal thrusts and Kirk’s done, biting down hard on his own lip and tasting the coppery tang of blood as he comes with a tattered groan, gripping McCoy hard enough to bruise. It seems to go on forever, and leaves him feeling wrung out and sleepy in the best possible way.

When he comes back to his senses he realizes McCoy’s still waiting for his okay, and there’s something so insanely hot about it that his dick makes a valiant effort to get hard all over again.

"Come for me, Bones, c’mon," Kirk growls, rubbing his thumb over the head of McCoy’s cock and smearing precome down the shaft. It takes all of two seconds before McCoy yelps and spills warm and sticky-wet between them, hips jerking so hard he gets jizz all over his own stomach.

He looks so blissed out and young that Kirk can’t help himself - he kisses McCoy, sweet like he’d kiss a girl and nothing like they’ve ever done before. McCoy returns it fervently, grabbing a hold of the short hairs at the back of Kirk’s neck and holding tight until McCoy pulls back, kiss swollen and bright eyed.

They stay close, breathing each others’ air until Kirk’s skin starts to itch and he pulls out of McCoy. He’s about to get up but McCoy pushes him back down and rests his head on Kirk’s scarred chest, right over his heart.

"Stay." His voice is hesitant in a way Kirk’s never heard him. He wants to say no, knows he should because he’s too attached and he’s in so deep he’s not sure he can get out this time. Instead he runs his fingers though the tangled mess of McCoy’s hair and tugs his head up, leaning to kiss him again, soft and slow.

McCoy makes a noise of contentment as his head drops back to Kirk’s chest. “You didn’t get out of actually talking to me, y’know.”

"Do you always have to ruin my afterglow?" Kirk raises an eyebrow but he’s feeling too good to actually care. He sort of wants to talk about the daddy thing, like, really wants to talk about it because fuck that was hot - but he’d prefer not to wake up with a knife shoved somewhere delicate, so he holds his tongue.

"What else am I still here for?" McCoy chuckles, and Kirk decides that the way the jagged scar across the bridge of McCoy’s nose twists up and his eyes crinkle at the corners when he laughs is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

"Smartass," Kirk grumbles and feels around for a sheet, tugging it over them both. 

They fall asleep like that, wrapped up in each others’ arms.


End file.
